


Seaweed and Adrestian Sawgrass

by unseenbox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Duke Aegir (mentioned), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Paralogue spoilers, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unseenbox/pseuds/unseenbox
Summary: Ferdinand has trouble laying his father to rest. Dorothea lends him a pillow. Metaphorically, anyway.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105





	Seaweed and Adrestian Sawgrass

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains spoilers for Ferdinand and Lysithea's Paralogue, Retribution! The route is vague, but that paralogue only triggers on Non-CF routes, so really, any one of SS/AM/VW works here.

The documents Ferdinand sought would be easier to find in his father's estate, but von Aegir territory was still patrolled by Imperial forces, so it was not worth risking their attention for the sake of some parchment. The monastery's library would have to do, and as luck would have it, he'd already pulled some promising looking tomes and ledgers into a pile on the desk. There were still many shelves to sort through, but he swore to himself that he would not leave empty-handed, so he would scour as many shelves as he had to.

His father must have left a trail behind. No one could skim so much off the top without anyone noticing! He must have had co-conspirators, allies, and enemies as he schemed and went about his wicked plots. Someone must have seen! Yet he did not. And all the while, the common folk suffered while he carried on oblivious to their struggles. What a fool he'd been! But he would not be oblivious anymore, not if his name was Ferdinand von Aegir. Even if that name meant nothing without the title. Even if his father's actions meant their name was worth less than nothing.

Ferdinand heaved a sigh. No, he definitely read that paragraph before an hour ago. Perhaps he ought to take a break? Rest his eyes, at least. His father was certainly resting now, if nothing else. Though how easily… Ferdinand couldn’t say. He pressed a hand to his temple, rubbing in a small circle. No, no, it was no good to think about it now. No use wondering if his father could have been saved, had he arrived just a little bit sooner. Was it wrong of him, to wish to have saved him? Would Hyrm and Aegir not be better off without him? Would he, himself, not be better off without him?

Oh, who was he kidding? He wasn’t going to find out any new information in the next few minutes. He closed the book in front of him, pushing his chair away from the desk. He could, at the very least, shake out his shoulders and get some fresh air. He stood up, stretching his stiff limbs. He found himself wishing the library had windows, as he had no way of knowing how late it had gotten, but the length of the shadows in the hallway gave him a fairly good idea. Past sundown, but only just. He heard heels clicking and ruffled fabric swishing against the stones and wondered who it might be. He did not have to wonder for very long; Dorothea rapped her knuckles in the doorway. She gleamed in the dim light, smile sly and eyes bright.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just on the hunt for some sheet music.” She spared a glance at his desk. “I see you’ve been busy.” Dorothea hummed a laugh as he stood there completely speechless. She always left him spellbound as if by a mage. He shook himself from his reverie, smoothing out some of the creases in his coat.

“I was merely doing some personal research.” He hovered uncertainly.

“Oh? Find anything good yet?” She paused at one of the shelves, her head tilted toward him.

“Alas, I have had very little luck so far.”

“Maybe next time,” she said with a wink.

They went silent, as, after all, they _were_ in a library. Dorothea turned her full attention to the shelf in front of her, running her fingers down the spines of books. Ferdinand walked the length of the desk and back again. He stood there, looking down at the desk and the papers spilled on top of it. After a time, he thumped his fist softly on the wood and gathered himself up. It would be the height of cowardice if he said nothing.

“Dorothea? I…,” he closed his eyes as the words jumbled in his throat. Easy, Ferdinand. Breathe. When he opened his eyes again, Dorothea had turned to face him.

“Hm?” She crossed her arms in front of her. Her brows knit with unease. Unease that he’d caused. Unacceptable.

“I owe you an apology. Many of them, in fact.”

The uneasy look shifted to one of surprise. Much better. “Well? I’m listening.”

He pressed a hand to his heart. The other fell against the desk. “I should not have pushed you into changing your opinion of me.” There. The hardest part was over. He breathed, letting go, and then he carried on. “It was arrogant of me to assume I could earn your approval. I should have accepted you and your dislike of me, and considered it justifiable, instead of seeking to… prove myself worthy of you.”

Dorothea laughed. Sharp, as always. “Bit late for that, don’t you think?” She stepped away from the shelves, closer to him. There was worry in the tilt of her head and the green of her eyes. “What’s really going on, Ferdie?”

He blanched. “Nothing is going on! I have only just realized,” he fumbled for words, “that I am not so different from the nobles you knew in Enbarr.”

Dorothea stepped closer still, hip braced against the other side of the desk. She clasped his hand against the desktop. A shock ran through him. He met her gaze, stunned. Her thumb smoothed against his own. “I think I can decide that for myself, you know.”

Ferdinand spluttered. “I did not mean to imply otherwise!” The flush on his face ran down his neck.

When she spoke, she seemed to ignore his outburst entirely. An excellent decision. “You’ve been cooped up in here for the last five days, Ferdinand. So, come on. You know you can tell me.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I do not wish to burden you with my troubles.”

“Too bad, because I’m asking for them.”

Who was he to deny her anything? He moved to sit down again, and she went with him, making herself comfortable on the chair next to him. She cupped his hand, thumb against his palm, and he bowed his fingers around hers. He feared he could not stop himself from trembling. He felt her breathe next to him, the way her chest rose and fell. He could do this.

So he began. “My father was… he was killed by our own people. He treated them cruelly, so I am sure it was deserved. Even if another had committed even worse crimes in his name.” Dorothea scooched closer to him. “I thought my father corrupt for years, of course, but I did not know how much that corruption caused the people to suffer, not until…” He coughed wetly. “Well, suffice to say, until his death.” He brushed his free hand through his hair, hoping to collect himself. “He was by all accounts a terrible man. But…” He hated how his voice shook. “I find myself missing him, even so. Is that not strange?”

Dorothea hummed beside him. She bit her lip, and when she spoke, it sounded torn out of her. “I don’t know. I never knew my parents. And I’m sure they’d have no idea what to make of me if they could see me now.” She laughed once, bitter.

“I apologize, I should not have—”

“Save it. The point is, I can’t really tell you how you’re supposed to feel. Your father sounds like he was a real piece of work. He probably was.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “But the people we know?” She shook her head, starting again. “The people we love aren’t… characters in some opera. When they die, they don’t get to sing a song about the inherent tragedy of their demise as they go. So we’re stuck sorting through everything ourselves. Not as fun as opera, but well, what can you do?”

Ferdinand exhaled. He felt her hand under his, strong and sure. He crumpled against the desk, head in his hand, and made a few snuffling sounds that he would later deny. Not now, though. Now, he breathed in and out, wondering over her. How she always cut right to the heart of him. How he was always left thankful for the wound. He wiped at his eyes with his free hand, sniffling.

“You have always been honest with me. Even when I may have wanted otherwise.”

A soft smile lit up her face. Her spare hand brushed some of the hair out of his eyes, hair that he hadn’t noticed had fallen into disarray. He felt himself blushing agape. “Someone’s got to keep you pesky nobles in line.”

He looked her in the eye, placing his other hand over hers. As if reminding himself that she was there. He took a breath, and then another one, ignoring how his hands shook. “For as long as you can tolerate me, please…” His pulse raced. “Please, keep me in line.”

Dorothea leaned over and kissed him on the temple. He went still, longing to pinch himself. Impossible. This must be some sort of dream. When she pulled back, she was smiling, a gleam in her eyes. She squeezed at his hand, and he—he supposed that counted as a sort of pinch. “I think I can manage that.”

Which was good, because he wasn’t sure he could manage breathing at the moment. “Dorothea? I—what is-- why did you-- I’m sorry, what?”

She laughed like a symphony. “Easy, Ferdie. Like I said. Bit too late for me to change my mind about you. Well, change it back.” She grumbled, “You know what I mean.”

Ferdinand felt red from his fingers to his toes. “I believe I know what you mean, yes.” He huffed, trying and failing to calm himself. Was the room spinning, or was it just him? Perhaps he should hold onto her hand tighter until the dizziness stopped. Yes, good idea. “I fear I do not have the words for how much joy I feel at this very moment. It is rather overwhelming!” Like a hummingbird in his heart. He couldn’t contain it, spilling out in a laugh.

“We don’t really need words for everything, do we?” She said with a wink.

He kept feeling new places catch fire. How much blush could one man hold? “Perhaps not, but—just these?” He took a breath, steadying. “I love everything about you, and it shatters me that I have earned even the smallest amount of your affection.”

Dorothea’s hand trembled, and he pretended not to notice the way her eyes suddenly looked a little wet. “Those weren’t too bad.”

He thought of his father. Just once. How much of his life he must have wasted, not feeling anything but the clink of gold in his pockets. Nothing like the joy that sparked in his heart as she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. How pale he must seem in comparison to her. How little he minded, as long as she shined in his life at all.


End file.
